


Why him?

by SoDoLaFaMiDoRe



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Do not read if you need to keep having a good day, Gen, I don't have it in me to tag this, If you have something that easily triggers you, JUST, Just Ignore This
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6697873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoDoLaFaMiDoRe/pseuds/SoDoLaFaMiDoRe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I lost a friend yesterday and I need to keep my hands busy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why him?

“Oh boy, you will not believe the shift I had!” Plopping down on the couch, Swerve took a dramatic vent. “Whirl tried to start a fight again and got mad at me when I said I couldn’t get a new shipment of engex in until next solar cycle! Ratchet drank nearly half the highgrade, and I was running around so much I think my pedes are falling off!” Taking a moment to stretch, Swerve looked at Skids only to see the mech was finishing typing something on a datapad.

“Hey Swerve, I need you to come over here.” Setting the pad to the side, Swerve felt something in his tanks drop at the tone. 

“Skids, what’s wrong?”

“I think it’d be better if you sat over here first.” That tone meant no good news was coming. Steeling himself, Swerve sat gingerly next to his roommate.

“Swerve, Tailgate had a seizure and died in his sleep last night.” There was a split second of silence as his processor attempted to figure out what Skids was saying. The next moment, his head was buried in Skids stomach, clenching at armor plates and screaming. Even as his processor detached himself from the situation and tried to point out it would get them a noise violation, he couldn’t stop his screams or start venting. 

His tanks roiled in his stomach as his body shook, and he made a mad-dash for the washracks as he dry-heaved. Laying on the tile floor, fingers clawed in an attempt to find something to hold onto as his body sent out a million crossed-signals of how he felt.

He felt a hand on his back as he finally stopped the screaming, vents hiccuping and engine whining from the heat they needed to dump. Skids rubbed soothing circles, trying to get Swerve relaxed enough to get his feet under himself. 

“Let’s get you back to the berth, you need some fuel in you. Want anything in particular?”

“I-I-I-I” He knew what he needed to say, but his processor felt blank and he could only hitch on his words as he gripped the edge of the berth, staring ahead without really focusing on the stimulus. He needed something light, he knew that, and he suddenly felt as if he’d lost his sense of taste. Nothing sounded appealing, even as his vocoder continued to glitch.

“I-I-I-I th-think I-I ne-need ju-just cool-l-lant.” Shuddering, the words finally made it off his glossa. His frame felt a thousand times heavier.

“Just coolant?” Skids gave him a worried look.

“I-I-I-I’m go-going to be be sick o-on anything e-else.”

\----  
It had been 24 hours since the news broke. He’d made it through most of the bar shift without crying, minus one moment talking to Rewind, and Rung was shocked he was even showing up at all. 

“You do realize if you went back to your hab, no one here would judge you?”

“I-I need the social contact, I-I’m not going to be doing good alone.” His frame protested, having woken up only 3 hours into the recharge cycle and not going back to sleep. The shots of Hypercharge he’d taken during the early part of his shift were already beginning to wear off and make him jittery, but every movement was fighting molasses to get his frame in motion.

Rung watched him nervously, just worriedly leaning forwards when Swerve hid under the sink for a moment to vent in an attempt to not burst into tears again.

Making it to the end, he could barely plod back to his hab before throwing his things haphazardly on the berth. Ultra Magnus needed a shipping order inboxed to him within 12 joors, but it took a good 2 and a half to find the motivation to open the order-form and add solve the simple equations of his supply vs the demand.

\----

When Skids left for his shift, he gave Swerve a worried look as the mech lay on the berth, propped up by a pillow and barely paying attention to the Earth sitcom on TV. “Swerve, you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m numb right now, but don’t worry, I’ll be heading to recharge in a bit.”

\----

He didn’t head to recharge. Unbidden folders opened up reminding him of movie nights spent between just himself, Tailgate, and Rewind, and he could barely find it in him to get into the washracks as the solvent got up to temperature.

With the feeling of the different texture on his plating, something broke. A small keen forced its way out first, quickly rising to a scream. “WHY! OF ALL THE GODDAMNED MECHS, WHY DID YOU PICK HIM!! THERE ARE FUCKING KILLERS OUT THERE, AND YOU PICKED HIM!! HE DID NOTHING!! HE WAS GOOD!” Screaming in rage, he grabbed a pick and aggresively pulled out a piece of glass what had gotten lodged in a seam of his plating. There was no damage, but it took a long moment of staring at the pick before he could muster the energy to put it back in its holder instead of fucking himself up with it.

Sitting back on the couch, he turned back on the television, staring blankly. The word had spread through the crew, there was going to be an official announcement in a moment, and when they landed on the next planet two days on, they would have the burial.

Swerve just felt achy and numb.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Kimmy, I'm gonna fucking miss you


End file.
